


In the fire light

by SugarcoatedBrain



Series: A Marvellous Christmas [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), British Actor RPF, Iain De Caestecker - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, F/M, Not Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Social Anxiety, Writers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-08 03:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18886567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarcoatedBrain/pseuds/SugarcoatedBrain
Summary: “Viola, here’s Iain de Caestecker. He’s the last you needed to meet, the cast is complete now! He plays-”“So, you're Fitz?” she barely breathed out.“That would be me, yeah.”





	1. 1x01: Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> This work was aimed for Christmas but it can be read all year long. I love Iain de Caestecker way too much and was found pretty disappointed when all I could find on AO3 was FitzSimmons fanfictions and a couple of Iain ones, mostly involving Elizabeth. So here's a little something for all of us, who find Iain adorable and need content!

The jitters were real. They were completely real and completely present, turning her stomach into a batch of butterflies, flying away and bumping into the walls. Her hands were shaking, her head felt like cotton candy and for some reason, she was seeing everything blurry even though Viola knew she didn't need glasses -or only to work on her laptop since the blue light emaning from the screen gave her migraines. It felt like she had too much energy in her body, like an electric current trying to find a way out and igniting every nerve in her small body as it searched for an escape. It wasn't a new feeling, she had had it for as long as she remembered being alive. Nervosity, anxiety, name it as you'd like but Viola wasn't unknown to it. She hated it, in fact. It kept reminding her that she was weak and that she was socially unable to do things. As long as she could remember, she'd always had jitters at important times of her life. Or at small moments when she felt like she couldn't do certain things. It mostly implied talking to other people, whether it was a flesh-and-bone-moment or talking to the phone. Even sending an e-mail felt sometimes like a greater task than it really was. Social anxiety was just a part of her days and how miserable they could get. Symptoms weren't always dialed to an eleven but today, it could make it to a twelve.

Last time she felt like that was precisely why she was now. Internet was kind of a safe place to her, where she could browse in peace without any sales person to ask her if they could help her. She could buy her groceries and have them delivered to her door so the only person she'd see would be the delivery guy. She could travel to incredible places without having to suffer through the checking-in and the security checks at airports. She could watch movies without having to sit with a hundred other people. But that day, when she had seen the most amazing job offer she could imagine for herself, she had sent a mail with clammy palms and an extremely painful and fast beating heart. Without really expecting an answer back, she had received a mail, asking her to set up a meeting in the offices and she had agreed, even though her entire mind told her not to. She had met with Joss and Jed Whedon, as well as Maurissa Tancharoen, for a possible writing job for their television series. Viola had worked her entire life to get to this, to a a job that would allow her to live off of her passion that was writing so that day had been a real hell to go through, as she really wanted the job but also really feared not being good enough. She wanted the job even more as soon as she knew that it was a Marvel series and she happened to love Marvel's stuff. With her whole body shaking and trembling, she had made it to an office in Los Angeles, after driving for a solid seven hours. She didn't live in Los Angeles and she wasn't really interested in moving out of her small one-bedroom flat in San Francisco, so she expected to be commuting a lot or to find a small and cheap motel when she really had to stay in Los Angeles. Then she realised that she was starting to plan her life with this job and her mood suddenly became gloomy. She wouldn't get the job, anyway, because she wasn't enough: not interesting enough, not skilled enough, not talented enough..

Of course, she had spent a solid hour and a half trying to avoid eye contact, looking at the table between her and the three producers, blushing everytime they'd compliment her and stuttering her way through as they spoke about her work, trying to decipher if she was a good fit or not. She wasn't much of a brag, in fact, she hadn't got one proud bone in her body, but her shy modesty charmed the trio and her work was what they wanted to see for their show. She would work with them as a writer as well as a couple of others that she would exchange ideas with to create the episodes. When she signed the contract, she was ecstatic but on the drive back, she realised what "a team of writers" meant and how her work was going to be scrutinised by Marvel fans who would have her head on a stick if she dared make a mistake. Evidently, she had to follow Marvel's rules and frames: she couldn't put a Superman reference to an episode, for example. She had to make sure every reference had a solid base of facts and thank God, they had a specialist from the company who would review everything before they'd get beheaded.

But still.

It was her first real writing job and she couldn't screw it up. So that sent her to an overdrive overthinking mode and she had to make several stops during her long drive back home to calm herself down.

She had been hired a couple of months before and her first assignement had come the day after the news dropped. She had been secluded in her small flat ever since, getting deliveries on a weekly basis and drowning herself in the Marvel world that she got access to with her new employment. She spent her days watching Marvel movies and series, reading comics, writing plots and building characters, while sipping coffee or tea to keep her awake. The only outings she'd allow herself were for researching purposes or coffee breaks. Her coffee machine sucked and she was a Starbucks addict, as much as she hated admitting it. Ordering was always a challenge but she found the atmosphere in those coffee shops just wonderful or at least when they were empty, so she would sometimes walk the exact two hundred steps that separated her from the closest Starbucks, which was conveniently next door to her apartment's building. And she'd go late on the evenings after she'd studied at her window to decipher if the coffee shop was crowded or empty.

After two months of intense writing, of brainstorming sessions with the different writers (online, because the phone sent her in a frenzy), of hours spent on the Internet to research everything Marvel, she received an invitation to meet the rest of the crew in Los Angeles, at the studios they would film at. She had picked up the mail that day, thinking she'd be fine, she'd only get a couple of ads and maybe a bill to pay, but she had gotten the invitation and then it was like hell broke loose on her. She had scurried in the stairs (24 steps to be exact) to lock herself in her apartment and then, she had to go through the whole process of calming herself down. Counting backwards became a thing when she turned fifteen, so she was used to it. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 ... She thought about declining. She thought about calling Maurissa and inventing a drama that just occured in her life to excuse herself. Then she realised it'd imply taking the phone, dialing Maurissa and then stuttering like an imbecile, so she decided to go. She could still be there, hide in a corner of the studios and then go back to her small flat like nothing happened. Right?

She'd had no regard on the casting process, she wasn't the main writer after all, but she was required to the rehearsals, the table reads and the filmings, as she was one of the writers nonetheless. All of them were to be on set. They had to give indications, to point out where things weren't exactly what they imagined. They were basically asked to play dolls with real people and that put poor Viola into an anxious mode again. Real people; she had no control over them. When she wrote the characters, they were under her power. They did as she told them to, they were what she imagined. But real people, even actors? She wasn't sure she was able to tell them what to do. Talking to them would be hard enough as it is.

She wasn't really a social bird. Isolation came with being a writer but mostly, it came because of her incapacity to truly make friends. Her high school experience hadn't been exactly the teenage dream everybody told her she was going to live. It was lonely hours, it was not going to proms, it was staying alone at a table to eat lunch (when she'd be able to otherwise she'd eat in a bathroom stall) or going outside to avoid being seen. It's not that she didn't want friends, it was more like she didn't feel like she belonged to this place, like she fitted with those people. All of them were having heavy drunk parties, they were yelling in the halls, they liked to prank each others to the point of sometimes hurting themselves, the boys were rowdy, the girls were more interested in their makeup then books and.. well Viola happened to be the exact opposite. So she didn't really connect, she didn't really talk and since she was one in a thousand or so, she pretty much became transparent, which was totally okay to her. It helped that she found herself to be pretty average looking: not thin, not fat, dull brown eyes, long brown hair, a fashion sense at that time pretty much non-existant. She grew up to love clothes and to catch up on makeup, but she still wasn't a model, even though she didn't want to become one. Her whole life was about being transparent, not recognised, not noticed. She never really mingled with anybody, she just was there and waited for the world to go on without her.

The drive to Los Angeles had been dreading. She had planned it though so she had booked online a room at a motel that gave her a code to enter her room. No check-in, no check-out, her life was easier without having anyone to talk to. She made a stop in the journey because her dreading ways got her hyperventilating and seeing blurry. When she finally made it to Los Angeles, she felt like she had sweated the amount of an olympic swimming pool and her hands were so clammy they stuck to her wheel like suctions cups. Parking her car at the spot she had been given, she gathered her stuff on the passenger seat and made sure to take a look on the rearview mirror, just to assure herself that her hair wasn't sticking in every direction or that her lipstick hadn't stained her teeth. She definitely checked her armpits and blessed herself for choosing that flowy blouse that didn't let see how nervous she was.

It was now or never, she breathed, silently cringe-laughing at the Wildcats reference. Taking her bag with her and the three files she had to carry into her arms, she locked her car and went straight to the building's door, looking at her feet in case a security guard tried to stop her in the way. She had been given indications to go to the third floor, so she pressed on the elevator button to call it down and watched anxiously how the numbers would go down to the zero. It was kind of an habit, something she would always do when she'd call an elevator. She'd pick up the rythm and count in her head, in sync with the machine. When finally the doors slid open, she stepped into the small room and pressed on the three. The doors were sliding back close when a hand suddenly stopped their course. Viola stopped breathing. The doors slid the other way to reopen, letting Viola see a young man with a brown leather bag hung on his shoulder. He was wearing a white shirt, with short sleeves, and a dark pair of jeans with dark brown shoes. Viola wasn't really that much of a talker in normal times but in a closed space with a stranger? That was even worse. She just nodded shyly when he greeted her with a breathless "hi" and dropped her eyes to the ground, while the man took a quick glance at the buttons and noticed the three was already lit.

 

"Going to the third floor too?" he politely asked.

 

Viola nodded again, barely letting out a "yes" that made the man understand that she didn't want to talk. He stood there, silently, for the whole thirty seconds of their ride up, watching her pick at her fingernails in the corner of his vision. Without a word, they both exited the elevator and made their way into the left corridor. Viola's breath got caught into her throat, realising she was following the man. He seemed to go where she was going to and now, it looked like she was creeping on him. She was used to this so she applied her usual tactical plan: she took her phone out of her bag, faked checking something on it and turned the other way. She had noticed the room with the toilets sign when she had stepped out of the elevator and that's where she would hide until she couldn't no more.

When she finally made it to the conference room she was required to attend, it felt like she was going to have to go back to the bathroom, but not to hide this time. There were a lot of people in there and the only ones that she knew, really, were Joss, Jed and Maurissa. And they were her bosses. Now, Maurissa was nice to her when they talked on the phone occasionally, to discuss the narrative and the characters, but was she supposed to mingle with them and hang onto them, for her lack of social skills?

Maurissa saved her before she could assess every thought that was banging on the walls of her crowded brain.

 

"Good afternoon Viola", the brunette smiled. "I'm glad to finally see you again. How are you? Not too nervous, I hope!"

"Hello Maurisa", she breathed back. "I'm okay, definitely nervous though.."

"Oh no, don't be", she smiled again, rubbing gently her arm to comfort her. "Everyone in here is loving your work, don't you worry! This is just a get together type of meeting, for you to meet the other writers and the cast, so you can then write with even more accuracy", she explained. "But I assure you, you've done an amazing job so far, so you don't have to be nervous. Let's greet the Whedons, you might want to signal that you're here", she smiled.

 

Joss was nice, in a "I'm your boss and you should know it" type of way. Jed was friendlier, definitely up to no good and a clown in disguise. He and Maurissa were married and clung to each other in a very sweet type of way. It was clear as day how much they loved each other and Viola couldn't help but smile a little whenever Maurissa would put her hand on his chest. They both were very friendly but Viola never forgot that they could fire her up whenever they'd wanted. So she started observing the rest of the crowd, because three-way conversations were never her forte. What if one of them thought about what she said in a wrong way and then told the other how much she had screwed up? She could try and bullshit her way through with one person but more was trickier. As her eyes scanned the crowd, she finally saw someone standing in the corner of the room. Clark Gregg. Her breath kind of caught up in her throat.

 

"I see you've noticed Clark", Jed smiled. "Want me to introduce you?"

"No, it's okay, I'm.. I'll eventually talk to him someday on set, anyway", she finally exhaled.

"Viola, this is a colleague of yours now", Jed laughed. "You can definitely go greet him, he's nice, he won't eat you whole."

 

Sure. Sure Clark was a colleague. Or at least, they were both working on the same project. There was no way he'd learn who she was, she was only a writer, not even  _the_  writer. She didn't imagine that they would spend time together. He was an actor, he was the star of the show and the one under the lights, she was just a figure in the shadows, in the background. Jed shook his head, amused, kissed his wife and took gently Viola's elbow in her hand to accompany her to Clark who was speaking to another woman already. Viola could feel her heart quicken even more. She was under so much stress already, why couldn't Jed let her be lonely in that crowded room?

 

"Hey Clark, can I introduce you to someone real quick?" Jed asked.

"Sure, hi", Clark smiled, presenting his hand for Viola to shake.

"Hello Mr. Gregg", Viola stuttered, shaking his head after subtly running her own against her jeans. "I'm a big fan", she blushed, fixing a point behind him, just next to his head.

"Clark, this is Viola Anderson", Jed introduced. "She's one of the-"

"The writer!" Clark exclaimed, making Viola's eyes bulge out. "I saw your name on some of the scripts we got", he explained, grinning. "I loved your work, you're a fantastic writer."

"Oh why, thank you very much", she stuttered and blushed (hard). "I loved your work in the Avengers too."

"Oh well, I died in this one. Thanks for bringing me back to life", he winked. "Have you met the rest of the cast?"

"Not at all, you're the first I saw and recognised", she admitted. "I watched the Avengers movie a bit too much", she reckoned. "I'm sure I'll meet the rest of the cast soon, though", she bullshitted around.

"Let me guess, big Thor fan?"

"Actually, Chris Evans", she shrugged, sheepishly, watching the floor beneath her.

"Ah, called dibs on that one", he reminded her. "But I see why. The muscles and the blue eyes, dreamy guy that one. I'll tell you all about his big biceps if you keep writing me as a badass", he joked.

"Deal", she grinned, unable to stop herself.

"Let me introduce you to the rest of the cast", he offered. "You might want to see the faces of the characters you created."

 

Viola nodded, accepting the arm he was raising for her to link hers to it. There was something about Clark Greg that made it so much easier for her to open up. He had a quirky personality and maybe she felt at ease with him because she saw him on her screen so much already. It didn't mean that she suddenly wasn't nervous at all, far from that, but he soothed it a little bit, just enough for her to fonction somewhat normally. Clark kept giving her some small details from the filming of the Avengers movie as they walked around the room to find the actors he wanted to introduce her to. Viola learned a great deal about Chris Evans, which she was thrilled about. There was a few cameos planned for the series, from regular characters of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but she was sad to hear that Chris Evans wasn't in the plans, nor his fellow big actors. Clark suddenly stopped in front of a gorgeous Asian woman, with long black hair and a flute of champagne in her hand. She was deep into a conversation with a man that Viola recognised as a producer of the show. She tended to stalk online..

"Ming, this is Viola Anderson", Clark introduced. "One of the writers", he explained.

Ming was a very polite woman, very nice, who chatted with her for a solid ten minutes about what Viola had imagined for Agent May. Should she be really cold? Very calcultating of her every move? Observant and not talking much or was she allowed to have some facial expressions at some points? Viola loved the fact that Ming asked her precisions on what she wanted May to be. She was grateful for the way Ming showed her how she wanted to bring her imagination to life and not just use her work as a frame. She was willing to work with her to bring Agent May to the screen, in a way that Viola would be happy with. She was nothing like the character that she had watched come from the imagination of the writing team. She was bubbly, laughed a lot and loudly, smiled for the whole conversation and couldn't help making grand gestures when talking. She was the opposite of Agent May, which amused Viola to no end. The fact that Ming was so happy to be here, though, intimidated Viola like crazy. She was so sure the actress would comment on her almost silence and the fact that she was physically unable to make eye contact, that she often felt Clark ground her back to Earth. Somehow, Clark had found out she was terribly shy and was able to get her through all the conversations.

Next was Brett Dalton. When she finally stood in front of him and realised how tall he was compared to her, she almost backed away. Clark wouldn't have that, though, so he gently pushed her forwards. Brett was nice, funny and nothing of a beast as she knew his character, Agent Ward, to be. Ward was supposed to be an elite guy from SHIELD, one of the best if not  _the_  best. He was supposed to be a bit of a dickhead, arrogant, knowing he was good at his job and not really fun-oriented. Grant Ward was the ultimate douchebag but Brett was nothing of that. He was laughing loudly and smiling big, making Viola feel at ease contrary to how she would feel in front of Grant Ward. The fact that he was so tall compared to her make it way easier to pretend that she was watching him when really, she was counting the tiles on the ceiling. Clark was watching him with almost admiration in his eyes, like Brett was exactly what he had aspired to be when he'd grow up. Clark was older than him, but it didn't seem to matter as far as Clark was concerned.

Of course Chloe Bennet was exactly what Viola had imagined for Skye. The brunette was bubbly and funny, ready for shenanigans and she was incredibly beautiful as well. If Skye had escaped from the scripts Viola wrote, Chloe would have appeared in front of her. She was perfect for the role and Viola couldn't wait to see her as Skye. The conversation with Chloe didn't last long, as she was the exact opposite of Viola: she was a social bee, buzzing from one person to the other, laughing with everyone and smiling in every case. She seemed to be truly happy to be here, without a single care about what people thought of her. Viola had seen people like Chloe her entire teenage years. She certainly was one of those popular kids in high school, one of those that Viola looked from afar, socialising as easily as breathing, while she was as lonely as she could be.

As Clark kept introducing her to more and more people, Viola felt more and more at ease. It's not like she didn't have clammy hands, a thumping heart or a buzzing noise in her ears anymore, but they all felt less intense as when she entered the room in the beginning. Any of those people were far from being monsters or scary at least. They were incredibly nice and welcoming, happy with her work and ready to bring it to life. But the next couple of people Clark introduced her to changed everything. They were both talking to each other, a glass of orange juice for one, a bottle of beer for the other. They seemed to be deep into their conversations when Clark said that there were only two more people Viola needed to meet before she'd have met the entire cast. The woman wasn't that tall, from what she could see. She had red hair, was quite thin without being a stick and she seemed really happy to be talking with the man in front of her. Viola couldn't see much of the guy, his back was to her and before Clark and her got to the two, he had escaped to grab another bottle of beer, as his had been empty for a long time now.

That's how Viola met Jemma Simmons. Or the actress playing Jemma anyway. Elizabeth Henstridge was nice, with her british ways and her thick accent. She was incredibly polite, delicate in her hand gestures and seemed like an incredibly easy person to be around. It instantly made Viola feel better, as the girl in front of her seemed to be barely older than her and still treated her like an equal. She had the respect to not be overly touchy with her, like Chloe had been, when she hugged her without warning and she could sense that for now on, she would respect that distance you'd have with a colleague, but she'd still try to make a friend out of Viola. Elizabeth, too, was amazingly excited to be portraying Simmons, the bio-chem scientist that Viola had written with her colleagues. She was part of a pair of characters that had been the most of Viola's work, as the team of writers had distributed the characters in the first week of work. Viola was assigned to the pair of British scientists but she had been working even more specifically on creating Fitz, the other half of FitzSimmons. She had been pouring herself into this character, letting small details of her own personality in the Scottish agent and she had made more efforts than she could have ever imagined doing. She had taken classes online about engineering, she had read books about physics, about electricity, about nuclearity so she would be able to write accurate dialogues and plots. Of course, she'd had help with the Marvel team who assigned a bunch of experts to the writing team. They would read the scripts first so they'd be able to correct things that seemed a bit wrong and even though Viola had made some mistakes along the way (she was no engineer, afterall), she still had written some pretty accurate details for a stranger to the engineering world.

Of all the cast she had to meet that day, to meet the actor who was portraying Fitz was the most dreading one of all. Fitz was almost like her baby. He was the thing that kept her awake entire nights, for weeks, he was the one she braved her anxiety for and went to open sessions in colleges for, he was the one she'd send emails to the experts for and the one she picked up the phone to talk with them for. She had braved everything for Fitz. She was so nervous about meeting his face that she had barely slept the previous night, trying not to imagine what he would look like. Contrary to her fellow writers, she hadn't had asked for the names of the cast before. She wanted to write without having to portray someone in her head before. It wasn't a novel, there was no need for long descriptions about the physical attributes of them all so all she asked Maurissa for was a simple description of each actor: hair color, eyes color, height, figure type and eventually, origins. She was glad to learn that the girl playing Skye was part Asian, for example. For Fitz, the fact that the actor was Scottish meant that she watched a great deal of Scottish movies and videos on YouTube to get the accent right and to know if there was any special word she could use to make Fitz feel even more real.

Clark was about to introduce Viola to the actor when she finally saw him. The guy she rode the elevator with. He was coming back with a bottle of beer. He was her Fitz. He was the engineer she spent an ungodly amount of time creating. He was the guy portraying two-thirds of all of the work she had done for the series. She had worked on Fitz like crazy, wanting to give this character everything he needed to grow, explore, become a center piece. And to finally meet his actor felt surreal.

 

"Viola, here's Iain de Caestecker. He's the last you needed to meet, the cast is complete now! He plays-"

"So, you're Fitz?" she barely breathed out.

"That would be me, yeah", he smiled, presenting his hand for her to shake it.

 

She hadn't made eye contact with anyone but Iain's clear blue eyes made it impossible to look anywhere else. Viola stood there, completely spooked, her mouth slightly agape, her mind blank for an instant before Clark gently poked her ribs on her side.

 

"I'm.. Sorry", she violently blushed. "It's just.. I never really tried to picture Fitz in my head and now.. You're really Fitz", she ended up saying.

 

It was the longest sentence she had formed out loud all day. She was positive her face was crimson by now, her cheeks burnt and she could feel the tip of her ears burning as well. Instantly, she felt foolish and planted her eyes on the floor, fiddling with her fingers and trying to calm her hammering heart. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 ... She didn't even see Iain blushed as well.

 

"Happy with the choice?" Clark finally asked, trying to diffuse the tension between Iain and Viola.

 

Viola raised her head back to face Iain's. Once again, she felt completely drawn to his eyes but this time, she could articulate her thoughts. Or at least a little. It wasn't that they were hungrily staring at each other. Viola was completely voiceless, staring at Iain and Iain was awkwardly waiting for her to unfreeze in front of him.

 

"Yeah, yeah I am", she finally murmured. "Sorry for.. Sorry for staring", she blushed again.

"It's okay. It must be a lot for you.. to meet us all like that and to see who's going to portray your characters."

"It is a lot", she admitted, so low she almost whispered. "I'm not great with lots of people at once."

 

She had no idea why she told him that. He would think she was a weirdo, now. She mentally slapped herself and went back to her cuticules.

 

"You wanna take a break and go for some fresh air?", he timidly asked.

"That'd be great, thanks."

 

Iain nodded, glancing back to Clark who was looking over Viola like a dad would look at his sick daughter. He could sense how nervous Clark suddenly was, trying to decipher if he pushed her around too much. There was no way he could have known, though, Viola thought. She was good at hiding her feelings, especially her anxiety. Clark left her to Iain who silently pointed at the door so they could escape for a bit. They got back to the elevator and rode it down, then made their way outside, still silent. Iain pushed the door open for her and she nodded her thanks, hoping he'd understand that was what she meant. Iain walked to the side of the door, leaning against the wall and patted his jeans' pockets to fish out a cigarettes pack and a lighter. He raised it to Viola, silently asking if she wanted one but she shook her head no.

 

"You don't smoke, do you?", he grimaced.

"No.. Sorry..", she apologised.

"What for? This shit is lethal, and bloody expensive. Stay away from it", he declared, lighting his cigarette between his lips. "Are you feeling better?"

"A bit yeah. Thanks."

"Well, I could see it was getting a bit much for you. You know.. Speaking to several people at once.. I just wanted you to know that I really like what you did with Fitz. I know you're the one who worked the most on him so I really wanted to meet you."

"What for?", she shyly asked.

"To thank you", he shrugged. "You really made one of the coolest characters I've ever played. I'm really excited to start shooting and to become Fitz."

 

Viola could see how much this role meant to him and she couldn't wait to see him portraying the character she wrote. She hadn't really been willing to imagine how Fitz would look like, apart from incredibly nerdy, somewhat introverted and pretty much of a dork. With his red curls and his slightly pink cheeks, Iain looked exactly the part. If she was impressed with Chloe before, she was even more with Iain. And his thick Scottish accent? She was already melting for it. She was so weak for accents, anyway. She was also weak for his way of blowing out the smoke of his cigarette, his head tilted back to rest against the wall.

 

"I don't have to come back upstairs right now, just tell me when you're ready", he smiled, throwing the butt of his cigarette in the trashcan and hiding his hands in his trousers' pockets. "I'm really looking forward to work with you, Viola. I hope you'll be happy with my part of the job."

 

And God, she would be. 


	2. 1x19: The Only Light in the Darkness

For two months after that introducing day, Viola sat at tablereads watching Iain read his lines and pouring his skills into the words she had thrown into her laptop. She would occasionally sit on a high chair on set to watch them all tape the episodes and whenever Iain asked her for, give him directions. He was the only one who would invite her to his trailer so they could discuss the scenes, because he wanted to play exactly how she wrote Fitz to be. Ming, too, always sent her at least a text by episode to ask for her notes (she would do so with every writer involved in each episode) and sometimes, when she hadn't worked on an episode, she would surprise herself missing the set and the actors, even though she wasn't really friend with them all. Clark had stuck to his promise and gave her numerous details about Chris Evans and his dreamy blue eyes but he stopped when Chloe started asking about Sebastian Stan. Even Elizabeth wanted to know about Robert Downey Jr and it became too much for poor Clark. He stopped telling her anything, until one day, she received a video message from him, which basically was a message from Chris Evans himself, telling her how he heard from a friend that a writer from the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. show was a huge fan and he wanted to say hi. He also said that if one day he was to go back to Los Angeles for a few days, he'd definitely try to stop by the studios to say hi to her. Viola almost died from fangirling that night.

By the time they were almost finishing the first season, Viola was almost friend with the other writers and Maurissa, but whenever she'd hang out on set, she'd stay in the shadows, where nobody would notice her or tell her she was disruptive. She'd hang in the Bus whenever they were done for the day, admirative of all the hard work from the props team and the decor guys, who built the Bus exactly how they imagined it. She'd run up and down the spiral staircase, just for fun, until one day she tripped down and almost broke her ankle. It happened on a lunch break; she had snacked during the morning, just to avoid the cattering trailer and she used that time to explore the set. When she had felt her foot slide from one of the steps, she barely got time to react. It was already too late when her brain sent her the alert to grab the rail. She braced herself for impact on the ground but all she crashed on was a chest and a pair of arms who caught her before she'd land on the floor.

 

"Wow, careful there!"

 

A thick Scottish accent. Of course, from all the people she could crash into, it had to be Iain. Viola's face lit up red and she quickly tried to regain balance, before a sharp pain took over her ankle and she yelped in distress.

 

"Oh wow, you're okay?!"

"I think I've hurt my ankle", she grimaced.

"You need to get that checked up, are you gonna be able to walk?"

"I'm not sure", she whispered.

"Okay, let me help", he proposed.

 

Without a word, Iain bent down and picked her up in his arms. He quickly made his way to the medical trailer and put down Viola to sit on the counter. He opened the fridge and retrieved an ice pack that he put down beside her. Still silent, he untied her shoe, pulled back her sock and gently applied the cold pack on her articulation, making her hiss in pain and uncomfort.

 

"I know, I know", he grimaced. "I'll get someone to look at your ankle, stay here, okay?"

"I'm not gonna go running on this", she joked.

 

Iain stopped a little in his tracks. Viola had never joked around him. It was the first time she felt comfortable enough to do so and he couldn't help to smile, even though he was mostly worried about her state. He ran to the catering and found a nurse who quickly came with him to check on Viola, who was still applying the ice on her foot. A quick examination showed that it wasn't broken, nor sprained. Just painful for now. She got given a painkiller tab and Iain found her a bottle of water to swallow down the pill.

 

"Thanks for helping me out", she breathed out, when they were finally alone again.

"You're welcome. It probably would've been quicker if you had fallen on Brett but I did run as fast as I could", he blushed again.

 

Viola understood fastly that Iain was just like her on some points: self-conscious and doubting his abilities. So she did all she could do with her own struggles to help him: she squeezed his shoulder and nodded her thanks, because words weren't her forte when they were spoken.

Since that day, Iain clang to Viola whenever she'd visit the set. He'd make sure she wouldn't fall again and she'd make sure to let him know he did good on his takes by nodding to him or lifting a thumb up towards him. It stayed that way for a couple of months, where Ming kept texting her for details, where Elizabeth slowly became a friend and where Clark kept teasing her about her love for Chris Evans. He even invited her to coffee once, only for her to discover that Chris was present as well. She nearly closed the door of his trailer back when she saw the blonde guy's smile and his bright eyes.

 

"So this is the infamous writer, Viola", Chris had smiled.

"Oh my God", she trembled. "Hi.."

"It was time for you to meet Cap", Clark laughed. "I have to tape a couple of scenes, he's here to pick you up and treat you to coffee. You okay to stay with him for a bit?"

"I think she's safe, Clark", Chris laughed.

 

Indeed, she was. Chris had noticed straight up her way to look at something behind his head and to stare at her fingernails rather than him. He knew this by heart, he used to do it all the time. So he took a few minutes to reassure her and to promise that he wouldn't judge, that he didn't care she wasn't socially skilled and he shared a few tips with her on how to deal with her anxiety. When they left the coffee shop he had chosen earlier, they were both happy and feeling like a weight had been taken off their shoulders. Iain was gloomy when Viola finally made it back to the studios but Viola couldn't take her eyes off of him and for the first time, she even talked to him while watching him in the eyes. It had never happened before so Iain knew he didn't have to worry anymore. It's just that compared to Captain America, he was far from being the same type and he never really felt confident about his body.

After Viola had held eye contact for the first time, there was no going back. She finally felt comfortable enough around him, or at least to talk to him a little bit more freely. So she talked. Not to the point that she stopped only to catch her breath but Iain learned to recognise her voice and the rest of the cast knew that if they had to talk to her, Iain had to be present too. It was kind of funny for a few of them. Chloe found it quite ridiculous to be completely honest but she made fun of it once, when Viola wasn't on set, and Iain had almost yelled at her. So now she respected the boundary but still internally cringed sometimes. Until, someday, she understood why Viola was so weird.

It happened on a table reading event. The writers involved in the episode had to be here but it only meant Viola and one of her colleagues. This episode was her most recent baby and she had poured her heart into it. The way it would work was that one of the writers was the main writer for each episode, that way, the others could build the frames and stories for future episodes. This time, Viola was the main writer and she had only got a helping hand on certain parts but other than that, this episode was her own. The reading had been spent as always: actors read their lines with enough intonation to make it seem believable and Jed would be the narrator. When they put the scripts down, every actor felt like an electric current was running through their skin. Viola had delivered one amazing episode, one of the best they ever had to film. Every character was enlightened, even Lance Hunter had his moment of glory and there was some humor in moments where it seemed impossible to place any joke. More importantly, Fitz and Simmons were finally back together, after Simmons had been swallowed by the monolith at the end of season 2. Fitz was the hero he deserved to be. And for that, the people around the table started clapping at Viola, whose face turned beet red in a matter of seconds and who stuck her vision to the table and her fingernails, as always. Nevertheless, something felt different, because the entire cast wanted her to acknowledge their happiness with this episode and they didn't stop. Not even when she stopped picking at her nails and started clenching her fists and her jaws. Her eyes closed, just for a second. She needed to catch her breath, to stop the buzzing sound, to get her vision clear again. Her heart was racing like crazy and she couldn't calm it down. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.. It didn't work that time. Instead, she started to frown and the clapping started to die down. Something was wrong and they all could see it. They must have thought she was crazy, that she was just an ultimate weirdo, that they couldn't possibly befriend her after that.

 

"Okay, guys, stop", Iain intervened. "Viola, you okay?"

 

Raising a trembling index finger to signal she needed a moment, Viola stayed sit and put, trying to calm her breath, to get some sense of normality back. She was always anxious but she rarely felt like this and she never really understood it completely. Her chest felt tight, her vision was blurry on the edges, she had pins and needles in her fingers, she felt hot then cold, she was shivering and shaking and at the same time, unable to move. All she could do was listen to their voices, echoing in her brain, bouncing on the walls of her skull, like ringing bells, telling her that she was pathetic and not enough and that something was wrong with her. Viola didn't move for several minutes, her fists balled and her eyes shut tight. She didn't see everyone stopping what they were doing, she didn't see the look of worry and not of judgement that they gave her, she didn't see Iain coming to her and kneeling in front of her, rolling her seat to face him on her side rather than the rest of the table. She didn't hear Clark and Ming, telling someone to call 911 and she didn't see Elizabeth, pouring her a glass of water. She didn't see Chloe's eyes, darting from her to Iain to Brett and back to her, like they could do something more than she could. She didn't see anything because she was trapped in her own little bubble of anxiety and fear and self-loathing. She didn't even feel Iain's hand trying to bring her back to herself as he would Simmons in the episode, by carefully putting it on her knee so she wouldn't feel attacked and like he stepped over a line. The episode lasted five minutes. Five long minutes during which Clark finally found a phone to call 911 and was waiting for his call to be processed, during which Ming was running down the halls to find something to help her, during which Elizabeth had to calm everyone down because they kept trying to crowd Viola and during which Iain didn't leave her side. And it all ended in a loud gasp and a jump from everyone else.

Clark hung up the phone. Chloe fell back in her chair. Brett put a hand on his chest. Elizabeth presented her a glass of water and Ming brought her a cookie. And Iain. Iain was there, kneeling next to her, feeling like his own heart was beating again after having stopped for a solid five minutes. The room was so silent, suddenly aware of every one of their moves and sounds, like they could send her back to whatever she was, by dropping a hair on the ground.

 

"Hey, you okay?", Iain murmured.

"I'm fine", she croaked out, putting back the now empty glass on the table, her hand violently shaking. "I'm fine, don't worry", she insisted, pushing back her hair from her face.

"You need fresh air, c'mon."

 

Viola stood slowly, letting Iain drape an arm over her waist to support her. They walked silently, because there wasn't much that could be said, until he opened the door of the building for her. He carefully helped her to sit on the small step in front of the door and sat to her right, wordless.

 

"I'm sorry for that", she finally said, looking at her left.

"You have nothing to apologise for", he assured. "This wasn't your fault."

"It's always my fault", she confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"I always mess it up."

"No, you don't", he promised. "Has this happened before?"

"Sometimes, yeah.."

"Have you.. Have you ever considered seeing someone?"

"What do you mean?", she frowned.

"Viola.. Do you even know what just happened?"

 

The brunette frowned even more and shook her head, not sure she knew what he wanted to hear. Sure it had happened sometimes but she always thought that it was linked to her nerves and nothing more. Sometimes, things got too much for her and she needed to take a step back.

Without a word, Iain took her hands from her knees, careful and gentle. He turned them palms up and a sigh escaped his lips. There was nothing he could say more.

Half-moons were printed in red on her palms. Half-moons that matched perfectly to her nails, that dug and broke her skin while she was out.

A low "what the hell" was heard and Iain closed his eyes, unsure on how to tell her, of what words he could use.

 

"What you're having.. They're panic attacks, Viola", he murmured, his thumbs tracing slow circles on the back of her hands. "I think you have social anxiety, in fact. That'd explain a lot, actually and-"

 

Viola stopped listening. Social anxiety. That's something she had heard before but spoken like that, she wasn't sure she could ignore it any longer. She had heard her own mother say it once. She was talking to her father and trying to tell him that something was wrong with their daughter. That it wasn't normal for a teenager to not have a single friend. That it wasn't normal for her to seek isolation rather than company. That she was scared for her baby daughter. But there was no way they'd act on it, because the mere idea that something with their daughter was wrong felt like they were betraying her.

 

"Do you want me to drive you back home?", Iain asked.

"I don't.. I don't live here", she muttered, sheepishly.

"What do you mean you don't live here?"

"San Francisco", was all she could articulate, now that her heart felt like it was breaking in pieces.

 

Tears were prickling her eyes while Iain was exclaiming that San Francisco was at leave five hours away and that she must be exhausted to commute every day. She couldn't say that she was staying at a crappy motel that she chose only because she could enter her room with a code and that she'd avoid check-ins and check-outs that way. She couldn't add another proof to the list Iain was making of all the things that made her odd. She couldn't bring herself to proove once more that she was unworthy of his time.

 

"Okay, you're coming with me. I'm not letting you drive, it's ridiculous, you're exhausted and you need to rest. After what happened today, you're in no state to drive."

 

Viola nodded, her tears finally escaping her tearducts and rolling down her cheeks. She didn't even make a sound, because she was used to cry in silence, to not draw attention to herself. Iain's heart broke completely, seeing her, sitting on the concrete, crying to herself, trying to be invisible, unnoticeable. There wasn't a single part of him that saw her as a pity case, as a charity situation or a good action opportunity for the day. All he saw was a girl who was unable to fathom that eventually, she could be loved. Iain shook his head, unable to say another word. He just signaled her to stay here and he went back to the meeting room. When Clark jumped on him, asking how Viola was, he just shook his head and said he was bringing her back to his place, so she could rest a little. Ming and Elizabeth nodded, obviously having understood by now that what happened to her was a panic attack and that she needed some calm.

 

"What the hell happened?!", Chloe finally asked.

"She just had a panic attack", Iain confirmed. "I think she doesn't know what's going on."

"You think that something's wrong with her?", she mumbled.

"Well I don't know, Chloe. The girl barely speaks, constantly hides in the shadows, can't look at you when eventually she talks to you and spends her time looking at her feet rather than what's around her", he exclaimed. "Jesus, am I really the only one who noticed that she was so damn afraid of any interaction?!"

 

Brett nodded, confirming that he noticed too. Ming added that even her texts seemed painful for her and that she would always have to wait for a few moments to get an answer. Elizabeth sighed and looked at Clark who was suddenly a bit pale. Now that he thought of it, Evans did say that he had related a lot to her.

Iain grabbed Viola's bag on the floor and her files on the table, asking to be left alone for the night. He needed to untangle everything for her, so she'd understand that nothing was wrong with her, that something was just different but that it wasn't making her bad. Iain found Viola just where he left her, sobbing on the ground, as silent as always. He helped her stand back up and guided her towards his car, where he opened the passenger door for her and put her stuff in the backseat. He drove without music because he wanted to make sure he could hear if she decided to make any noise. His appartment wasn't that far from the studios, being that his employers had found it for him. It wasn't that big but still had two bedrooms, a large and luminous bathroom, an open kitchen and a nice living room where he kept numerous books and DVD cases. There wasn't much decoration in it, Iain was a guy and couldn't be bothered with plants and nice frames to display his pictures. He only had one, hung on a wall, containing a large picture of his whole family.

 

"Miss them everyday", he explained, when he caught Viola staring at it. "This is my twin sister", he smiled, pointing at a girl on his left.

"Didn't know you were a twin", she murmured back.

"Well, I haven't really let you see who I was", he said.

 

There was no way he'd tell her that she didn't really allow him to say much, that she never asked any question and that they hadn't spoken a lot, in fact. There was no way he'd blame her for this when he suspected she had no control over it.

 

"If you want to take a shower to relieve a bit of the stress, I'll lend you some clothes and you can use anything in my bathroom", he offered. "You can even take a bath, if you want", he smiled.

"A shower would be great, thanks Iain."

 

The pressure of the water was always comforting for her. It allowed her to feel something, to let herself enjoy a touch on her skin. She wasn't used to hugs, to hands on hers, to circles traced by thumbs or to arms helping her to stay standing. Water was something, it was a start.

When she got out of the shower, a pile of clothes was waiting for her behind the door. She had stayed dripping in a towel for the past ten minutes, stuck in the shower, not knowing if Iain would have dared entering to leave her something or if she was supposed to step out of the bathroom in the towel. There was no way she could tiptoe naked in his place. But Iain had figured it out for her and she sighed with relief when she put her head in a big sweater and her legs in large sweatpants.

Iain was in the kitchen, fixing them something for dinner as it was almost 8pm already. It smelled like pizzas and indeed, Iain was stuffing Hot Pockets in the microwave.

 

"Sorry, I'm not much of a cook but I figured that was the best I could offer as comfort food", he apologised.

"It's okay. I kinda like those, anyway."

"You sure? I can run some errands quick if you want!"

 

Viola shook her head, letting him know she was fine with his choice. He, too, had changed of clothes and was now sporting the same type of outfit as her. If she dared go closer to him, she'd sense the same smell than the clothes he had lent her: a mix of his perfume, his aftershave, his laundry detergent and cold cigarettes. It was nice to have an idea of what Iain smelled like, since she wasn't approach him as close as she'd need to anyway.

Iain slid the Hot Pockets in two plates, two for each but he promised there were more where they came from, aka his freezer. He awkwardly laughed and raised the plate to her so she could grab it. They made their way to his couch and crashed on it, him already munching on his dinner and moaning about how he was burning the roof of his mouth and her playing with a loose hem on the sweater she was wearing. She looked like a big bundle of clothes, like a twig Iain had tried so hard to keep warm and comfortable. The clothes were so big on her, she had had to roll the sleeves three times for her hands to reappear and she did the same with the cuffs of the pants. She could have fitted twice in this outfit and she sure looked a bit funny, but it was also kind of metaphoric in a way, now that Iain took a good look at her. She looked so lost in a world too big for her.. and now she was drowning in his clothes.

 

"Do you really think something's wrong with me?" she finally blurted out.

"I think.. I think you're different but different isn't wrong. I do think, however, that maybe you should consider meeting a therapist who could help you out."

"I mean.. I always knew there was something wrong with me", she whispered. "Back in high school, even the weirdos had friends and here I was.. Lunching alone, taking the bus back home on my own, my cellphone only had three contacts in it: my parents and the landline of the house."

"I think you have fears and you need to understand how to fight them. Everyone has fears. Yours happen to be social interactions", he shrugged, like it was completely common. "I've looked into it and social anxiety is actually caused by a chemical inbalance, it's not like you had anything to do with it anyway."

Viola took a bite of her Hot Pocket. For a guy claiming he wasn't a cook, this might have been the best Hot Pocket she'd ever had.

"If you decide to do it, I'll help you out", he promised, studying her face like he was waiting for her to break down.

"Okay", she agreed. "I'll see someone."

 

Iain hadn't expected to be that easy to convince her but putting a word on her condition, knowing that maybe, just maybe, her complete unability to mingle with others wasn't down to her, wasn't because she wasn't good enough, felt like a huge relief. Hearing it from Iain helped too, because he was as close as she imagined a friend could be to her.

 

"When you said you live in San Francisco.. Do you drive back and forth everyday?"

"I got a room in a crappy motel", she blushed.

"That crappy?"

"Well.. the bedsheets aren't really white anymore, I think", she shrugged, like it was no big deal.

 

Iain shook his head, annoyed that he didn't know about this. Not saying a word, he stood up, went to the kitchen and shook a drawer open before he fished a set of keys and came back to sit next to Viola.

 

"Those are the keys of here. Please, don't go to the crappy motel anymore. There's a bedroom here that I never use, it's yours when you need to crash in L.A."

 

Viola's eyes bulged out and she might have choked on her Hot Pocket a little, too. There was no way Iain was proposing her to stay at his place. He couldn't be. Could he? Why would he do that? Was she his charity case or something? Did he pity her or think that she couldn't handle herself? But at the same time.. His eyes were saying that he cared. That he really didn't want her in an unsafe place anymore, that she deserved better. She thought back to the suspicious bedsheets and to the water that she sometimes would let run a bit before it'd start to be clear again. His place was a bit messy and still blank but his shower was clean, the pressure of the water was excellent and there was no dust accumulated in a corner of a room. There were no spiders on the ceiling, either. Without looking at him, she raised her open hand and welcomed the cold keys in her palm as he dropped them there. It was a small victory for both of them and she would sleep in a comfortable bed from now on. 


	3. 2x12: Who You Really Are

Viola went back to San Francisco the following day. She made a stop to the crappy motel, to get her stuff back and drove straight back home. She went back to work directly, writing another episode and replying to Jed's and Maurissa's mails about her incident back in the writers room. She promised she was fine and no, she didn't need to take a few days to rest, she was perfectly able to work from home. She also smiled when Iain's name popped up on her screen in a mail notification, whose title was "list of possible therapists in L.A. and San Francisco". He really did want to help. She studied the lists, decided that maybe it was better to get someone in San Francisco, as it was her home city and she thought maybe it'd be nice to have Los Angeles clear of any of this stuff. She narrowed the list to only women, as she felt more comfortable talking about her life with a woman and tried researching all the infos she could on the first one. She had never even started to think about seeing a psychiatrist, so there were a ton of things that she didn't know but for once, she decided not to throw herself into another searching party on the Internet. She was already anxious enough as it is. There was no need to throw gas on that fire. Her choice went to a blonde woman who seemed to know what she was doing. At dinnertime, Viola crashed on her couch with a bowl of mac and cheese, ready to watch a sappy movie, when her phone ringed and made her jump. She rarely got any call, the usual ones were from her mom and she had a special ringtone for her, so she knew not to jump whenever her phone decided to remind her that she existed in this world. The number on her screen wasn't saved and the ID said it came from Los Angeles. She wasn't sure how but she found herself sliding the green button to take the call and she put her phone to her ear, waiting for the voice at the other end to identify its owner.

A Scottish "Hello" came through and Viola sighed with relief. There was no way she would have been able to have a conversation with a stranger, over the phone. The accent was too much of a hint and even though she had no idea how he got her number, she did feel kind of happy to get a call from him that night.

 

"Hey", she replied. "Why are you calling?"

"I was just wondering if you got my mail, actually", Iain stuttered, audibly as nervous as she was.

"I did, thanks again. I chose to see a therapist here, we'll see. I chose one, I'll have to call her office and book an appointment, I guess."

"That's.. That's great", Iain exhaled. "I'm actually, ahem.. I'm proud of you, Viola."

 

The brunette found the air suddenly lacking in her lungs. There hadn't been much occasions for her to hear those words and she wasn't sure she actually deserved them. Last time she had, she had just graduated from her Creative Writing Degree in college, a few years ago. Her parents, as sweet as they could be, weren't much into showing their feelings. She wasn't used to hearing those words, she wasn't used to the sudden burst of warmth in her chest. Her eyes started to prickle and she ran her index finger underneath her waterline, only to feel a tear that was threatening to escape.

 

"Are you okay?", Iain timidly asked.

"I'm fine", she answered with an unexpected hoarse voice.

"Viola, stop saying that you're fine all day long when you aren't. I can handle it", Iain reassured her.

"It's just that.. I haven't heard this in a long time. That someone's proud of me."

 

Iain sighed in his phone.

 

"I wish you were here, in Los Angeles", he murmured.

"Why?"

"Because I'd hug you, if you were."

 

Viola's cheeks turned crimson and she thanked every God there was out there that she wasn't in front of Iain. His constant help and care was definitely making her life easier and sweeter too. Iain hung up not long after, wishing her a good night and letting her know that he couldn't wait for next week, when she'd come back to set to work on her episode.

As she laid in bed, Viola realised that maybe Iain cared because he liked her. Maybe for once, she was the one who could get the guy and not write about the girl who did. She wasn't sure what her feelings for Iain were, she just knew that she enjoyed spending time with him and it was more than she ever felt towards anyone else. She hadn't truly liked spending time with someone until Iain came along.

Fortunately for her, the therapist she had chosen had been able to book her a meeting for two days later, just before she'd go back to Los Angeles. She went to her office like she'd march to death and ended up sobbing on the way back home. She had no idea what a therapist was supposed to do, but she surely wasn't supposed to feel that awful after an appointment. It was like all of her fears and all of her worries had been enhanced to the maximum level possible and now, she didn't know what she was supposed to do. That therapist brought up subjects that tore her apart, only to let her know that her way of dealing with things was unhealthy and completely stupid. Viola thought she'd feel relieved after her appointment, like she had done the first step to start the whole process of getting better, but all she felt was ashamed and utterly sad. When Iain called that night, to ask how it went, Viola didn't answer. She let the call go through voicemail and turned her phone off after that.

When she went back to Los Angeles that Thursday (very) early morning, she was determined to go back to San Francisco on the same day. She couldn't care less about the gas and the certain exhaustion she'd endure. She didn't pack a single thing and just showed up at the studio, trying to blend in with the walls and not get noticed. Of course, it didn't work, since as soon as she stepped into the main building, Elizabeth was rushing to her, asking how she felt and if she needed anything. Elizabeth was nice, Viola had always felt like she could trust her with any secret and she wouldn't peep a word of it. Maybe this is why she shook her head no and dropped her eyes to the ground, in the ever so Viola way.

 

"Do you want to talk about it? Or maybe you want to talk to Iain?", Elizabeth worried.

"Please, don't.. Don't tell Iain, please", Viola pleaded. "He's seen enough already.."

"Let's go to my trailer, you obviously need to talk about something and we'll be left alone there."

 

The redhead nodded to the side, letting Viola know she could follow her. Her trailer wasn't that big and fancy, it was actually exactly suiting Elizabeth, who seemed like a very normal person still. She was down-to-earth and pretty simple, in her casual attire of blue jeans and a tee-shirt. Viola had never seen her wearing heels, she only wore sneakers, more specifically Converses, most of the time. Entering her trailer felt like entering her family house: it felt comfortable. Elizabeth indicated to Viola to sit down at the small table while she was rummaging through her cupboards to find two mugs. She plugged a kettle in and filled it with water, waiting for the small click of the button to let her know the water was hot and she dropped two bags of tea in the cups. She brought sugar and milk on the table, as well as the two steaming mugs and they accomodated their beverages to their tastes: Elizabeth put milk and sugar, Viola only sugar. It smelled like wild berries and black tea, which surprisingly soothed Viola more than she thought it would. Her hands around her cup felt hot and for the first time in a little while, she actually acknowledged that she was feeling something. Her life had seemed so dull these months, if it wasn't for Iain, she'd probably feel completely numb.

 

"So, what's going on?" Elizabeth asked, after swallowing her first sip of hot tea.

"I just.. I went to a psychiatrist the other day and it didn't.. It didn't go well", she stuttered.

"Well.. It's good that you're taking action to feel better about all of this, but don't dwell on this. I have a friend who did the same thing as you, went out there and booked an appointment. It took him three different psychiatrists to find which one was the best for him. It's just like people, at the end. If you don't like them, you won't be friend with them."

 

Viola nodded. She didn't know it wasn't unusual to meet with several different professionals to choose one. She was a bit clueless about all of this, actually.

 

"I'm sorry for bothering with this, you certainly had other things to do", Viola sighed.

"I'm glad you're opening up", Elizabeth smiled. "You have to realise that we're not here to hurt you or to make you feel bad. We just want to connect with you and eventually help you out. But you have to let us in, otherwise, we can't see the real you."

 

Viola nodded, then burried her nose in her mug. Elizabeth made sense, in a way that she didn't think was possible for her to understand. How could they get to know her if they only saw the closed up Viola who was too scared to speak and act with them? How could they not judge her if they didn't know her?

 

"You're not  _just_  a mental issue, Viola. You're a real person, with real flaws but more amazing real qualities. You have to show who you really are."

 

When Viola left the set that day, she drove straight to Iain's appartment and unlocked the door with her own set of keys.

Iain was there, cooking pasta and bolognese sauce. It smelled delicious and he had obviously showered, seeing how small droplets of water were sprinkled on the shoulders of his white shirt. He had changed into sweatpants and had a bottle of beer on the counter, next to his pans. When Viola opened the door, he jumped and put a hand on his heart, trying to calm it as it started to beat heradically. To say that he didn't expect the brunette was an understatement but he had the smallest glimmer of hope and that's why he had cooked enough pasta to feed at least four people. Or maybe he just didn't know how to gauge, which was very highly possible too.

 

"Hi", he breathed out, letting his wooden spoon rest in the pan. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay, don't worry", she nodded. "I'm sorry for barging in, you said I could come and I couldn't.. I didn't find the courage to tell you today and then.. I was almost driving back home but I'm tired and I figured you'd rather me crash here than have an accident, right?" she spouted out like fast lightning.

"Viola", he smiled. "It's okay. It's why I gave you the keys, really."

 

Viola nodded again, resting her jacket on the kitchen isle while closing her eyes for a couple of seconds. She really was tired. She had been working on their episode all day long and while she had struggled giving directions to the rest of the cast, she avoided Iain like the plague, to the point that he actually wondered what he had done wrong to hurt her like that. It took Elizabeth confiding in him that maybe Viola needed space for a little while, for him to breathe again. He made it his mission to make it as easy as possible on her, as soon as he knew, and avoided her all day as well, still giving her small nods whenever they'd cross path.

 

"I made bolognese, I hope you're okay with that", he smiled.

"I love pasta", Viola confirmed. "Can I take a shower? I feel really gross, tonight."

"Sure thing. Do you have any change? I don't see a bag or anything.."

"I was certain I'd come back home tonight. I didn't plan anything."

"Okay. I'll find you something, go hop in the shower, I'll put everything behind the door."

 

Viola thanked him timidly but hurried in the shower. The water was still warm from Iain's previous stay in the bathroom and Viola felt her cheeks flush at the idea of him in the shower, just before her. She felt like maybe she was intruding but also, he did give her the keys. He welcomed her in here, it wasn't like she broke in. Still, she had absolutely nothing prepared for her staying at Iain's place and had to use his toiletries. His shampoo smelled of citrus and his body wash of scental wood. It was kinda weird, smelling like a boy, but it also made her feel proud of herself. A few years ago, the idea of using someone else's shower would have been a joke to her, she would've laughed, said "yeah sure" and go back to writing. It's not like Iain made things magically disappear but she did recognise that there was that weird connection between them both and it did seem a tiny bit easier with him beside her.

When Viola made it back to the kitchen, she was wearing Iain's clothes and her hair was wrapped in a towel. She still smelled like a boy but the strong smell of Iain's bolognese made it disappear for a bit. The table was dressed, she only had to sit down and enjoy her dinner.

 

"Feeling better?" Iain asked, while he was trying to find something in the fridge.

"Way better, thanks again for letting me crash here", Viola replied.

"You have a key, you're welcome to stay whenever you'd like."

 

Viola shook her head, trying to wrap it around that idea. She could have been a robber for all Iain knew. She could have been a psychopath or a deranged person, still, he was opening up to her, giving her access to his appartment. It did seem kinda weird. They had known each other for a little bit more than a year, but there was a lot he didn't know about her, because she didn't let him know. Iain could be the psycho here, in the end..

 

"I know today's been kinda harsh", he timidly started. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really", she shook her head, while he was setting up a plate for her.

"Have you seen someone this week?"

 

Viola sighed. He knew where to poke, definitely.

 

"This.. It's actually what's been bothering me", Viola murmured.

"It didn't go well?"

"Not really.. I felt so.. small, afterward", she blushed.

"That's not really what I meant when I advised you to see someone", Iain grimaced. "Is it the person or the whole thing?"

"I guess it's just the person. I spoke with Elizabeth and she said I should try again with someone else, that it's often the case."

"I didn't know you talked to Elizabeth", Iain breathed out.

"There's a lot of things that you don't know", Viola remarked, as the tips of her ears started to burn again. "I guess I haven't been very open, so far.."

"It's okay", Iain promised. "I'm here whenever you want me to listen."

 

Viola nodded. It was all she was able to do, lately. She might as well turn into Noddy if she kept going on this path. She wouldn't have noticed it if Elizabeth didn't tell her earlier during the day, that she should just say whatever she felt like she needed to say. The redhead obviously didn't mean harm, she just meant that maybe, Viola should stop bottling things up, just for the sake of the others and what they might be thinking. If Elizabeth was able to point it out, maybe indeed, she needed to talk more.

When she went to bed that night, she checked on her phone the names Iain had sent her a few days before. There was a certain number of therapists here, in Los Angeles, that she could meet. As the last time, she narrowed the list to female therapists and tried to see if any of those would have a website platform to book an appointment. One of them had and Viola booked a meeting for the week after.

On the following morning, she went to work wearing one of Iain's shirts, for lack of better options. Thankfully, he had some of those too-small-shirts that he kept in hope one day, they would fit again. She wore the same blue skinny jeans but was thankful that she kept a small bag with a change of underwear and socks in her handbag. She had packed that bag one day, thinking it might come in handy in the future and she was so freaking thankful for her past self that day that she almost did a little celebratory dance move. However, when she arrived on set, Iain's on her heels, she looked awful and they both knew it. She had barely slept, dark circles were contrasting against her abnormally pale skin and her hair was a mess of curls that she gained from not hairdrying it the night before. She didn't have makeup on and even though Iain wasn't that big and his shirt was even too small now, she was still a bit drowning in it. When Maurissa saw her coming, she almost gasped. After five minutes on set, she started yawning and rubbing her eyes, trying to hide behind the cameras in the shadows, being as small as she could get. It took an hour of Iain watching her be miserable and exhausted for him to go see Maurissa and Jed and ask them if maybe they could send her home. After a quick check-up (and a breakdown when Viola dropped her cup of coffee on the ground), they decided Viola should come back after a good weekend rest at her place. She was so much younger than the rest of them all, barely the same age as Chloe who was the baby of the cast, that they felt responsible of her in a way. Iain's outburst on the tableread incident day was also another reason why they tended to be more careful around her and of her. By now, they all knew that Viola was different, that she had trouble talking with others and saying when things felt difficult for her, which is probably why they were all okay with the fact that she'd go back home. Seeing as Viola was unable to take her car back, they all decided that she should take a flight home. Clark insisted on paying her tickets and even though he wasn't really done for the day, Iain asked if he could be excused as well to accompany her back home. Maurissa agreed to let him go, for the sole reason that she felt something happening between the two and she was a sucker for romance, really.

Viola objected to the whole "rescue" mission or whatever it was. She wasn't that tired, really, she promised between two yawns. Even Chloe raised her eyebrows, telling her that she'd be better at home and that they could handle it without her for just one day. They spent an hour going over what they'd shoot during the rest of the day and when the crew felt like they had enough hints about Viola's vision of the episode, Iain took her back to his car and they went back to his place, so he could pack a bag. Their flight would leave at 11am, they were right on time. Instead of taking Iain's car back to the airport, they chose to take a taxi, to avoid paying the parking lot's fees. They booked in as soon as they arrived at the airport and went straight to a Starbucks shop to get some coffee in Viola. It didn't really give extraordinary results, since she fell asleep in the plane and managed to crash on Iain's shoulder. When they landed, an hour and a half later, Iain almost asked the flight attendance if they could stay a little, so Viola could rest. But he shook her gently and informed her that they were in San Francisco, Viola groggily standing up and managing to stumble on her own feet. Quietly laughing, Iain framed her shoulders with his arm and helped her make her way out of the airport, where he hailed a taxi and Viola indicated her address. She was too tired to actually register that she was about to let Iain enter her flat and crash in it for the weekend. All she could deal with at that moment was the fact that she was about to fall face first on her own bed and that it'd feel like heaven, probably. All that talking, all that anxiety, it exhausted her to no end. She usually would stay quiet and utter three words in a day, but she had woken up at 2am the previous morning, had talked a lot with Elizabeth, had worked all day long, given indications to actors, to producers, to the prop team and then talked some more with Iain and managed to sleep only three hours during the night. She ran mostly on the coffee Iain had paid for her since she had spent all her cash on another coffee back on the previous morning. The steps to her appartment felt like a proper mountain to hike and if it hadn't been for Iain's arms supporting her, she probably would have collapsed and tumbled down the stairs like the tired ragdoll that she felt to be. Iain had put each of his arms on each of sides, keeping her up and preventing from swaying on the sides. He didn't actually touch her, he was just a safeline, a guide that reassured her in a way. Apart from their walk through the airport, he had been really respectful of her boundaries and didn't try to test them. For that, Viola was extremely thankful. Struggling with her keys, it took her three tries to unlock the door, pushing it open and letting the familiar scent of her home hit her nostrils. It smelled like cookies and scented candles, the wild berries one that she had started a few weeks back was sitting on the small chest of drawers by the door.

 

"Welcome to my place, Iain", she managed to announce, her voice tainted with sleep.

"It's a nice home you got here", he commented, putting his bag on the ground. "Do you want me to take my shoes off?"

"Do what you want, I don't care, I'm too tired", she babbled. "I'm going to bed, make yourself at home, the remote of the TV is on the coffee table and I don't have a password on my computer", she presented. "Sorry for letting you fend for yourself, I just can't fonction right now."

"Viola.. Go to sleep", he chuckled. "I'll be here when you wake up, don't worry."

 

Maybe it was the promise that he wouldn't leave that made Viola's heart burst a little. The idea that he would be here, in her appartment, willing to help and to spend time with her, was enough to make her feel fuzzy a little. And it was Iain. Iain, that took her outside on their first meeting because he sensed that she needed a break from all these people. Iain who invited her in his trailer on the first season because he knew she wanted to hide somewhere. Iain, who often brought her cookies from the catering table when she was sitting in the dark, praying nobody could see her. Iain, who took her outside again after a panic attack, who helped her realise that she was having panic attacks, who let her crash at his place because she was too tired to drive, who cooked her pasta and who took the first flight possible to get her home when she was feeling really down. Iain, who never once judged her, let her know she was weird, who told her different was good, who only ever wanted to help her and who accepted her just as she was, with her weird habits, with her ghosting ways of dealing with people, with her unrecognisable voice and with her non-existant laugh so far. It was Iain. It was her friend. She just realised it. Iain was her friend. 

Maybe it was the sudden, sleepy, realisation that made her nod her head and sneak her way into his arms, wrapping hers around his torso and pushing her cheeks into his gray sweater. It took Iain a couple of seconds to react, a bit shocked that this was happening, engulfind her in his arms as well and putting his chin on the top of her skull. Iain smelt of cold cigarettes and wooden perfume, a smell that she was starting to recognise as his own, that she was getting used to. The hug didn’t last more than ten seconds before Viola’s old ways creeped in again, despite the exhaustion. She cleared her throat, let Iain go and went straight to her bedroom that she closed the door of. As planned, she crashed head first into her mattress, barely taking time to fold her sheets back on her and fell asleep in a matter of seconds, forgetting that for the first time ever, a person that wasn’t a part of her family was standing in her living room.


	4. 4x04: Let Me Stand Next to Your Fire

When she opened her eyes again, it was 10pm. She had napped for seven hours straight and she felt groggy like a fog had spread in her brain. Struggling to get up, she stumbled clumsily in her living room, only to find Iain sitting on her couch, his head tilted to the side, with the TV faintly glowing and giving his face a blue glow, making him look like a sick (but friendly) ghost. A small smile creeped its way on her face and she gently shook her head, trying to chase it away. When it felt impossible to, she turned around to another cute surprise: Iain had cooked dinner and it was waiting for her on her kitchen counter, under a plastic bell. It really wasn’t much, some roasted potatoes and a sausage but she liked the fact that he cared enough to cook for her, even though he wasn’t sure she’d wake up. Putting the plate in the micro-wave, she was extra careful not to let the device bip and prefered to end it a couple of seconds before. She ate in silence, holding back a moan when she realised Iain was extremely good at cooking potatoes and when she was done, she put her plate and cutlery in her sink to wash it later. He had washed his stuff. What a blessing of a man.

Viola sat there, on a chair, watching Iain sleep. His light stubble had grown quite a bit and she liked this new rough look for him. Of course, she found Iain cute back when she met him in season one, with his cardigans and his light coloured jeans but as he got older, he wore hoodies and patterned shirts with skinnier, darker jeans. And his beard.. She could have rambled about it for hours. Even his shorter hair were such a good fit for him. There was no denying that Iain got even more attractive with time. From the nerdy guy she met back when she started working on S.H.I.E.L.D. to the scruffy guy lightly snoring on her couch, she’d take the sleeping beauty in a heartbeat. She had watched him grow up so much, become so open and getting more self-confidence, it truly was amazing to see. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, watching him sleep, watching his chest heave and depress, watching his eyelashes rest on top of his cheeks and hearing the sound of his breathing fill the silence of the appartment. For the first time ever, Viola felt herself at awe, watching Iain just be himself. She had already been amazed by his acting skills, he was phenomenal and brought her imagination to life like no other could, but she had never felt so attracted to him, just being himself. Until then, she thought she was stupidly mixing him and Fitz up, Fitz being a fragment of her imagination, something she had created and maybe that was why she couldn’t stop looking at him whenever she was on set. But right now? Iain was nothing but himself and she couldn’t lift her butt from her chair, too enticed in him and his sleepy ways. When his breathing suddenly stopped and he gasped for air, she jumped and put her hand on her chest, finding her heart thumping wildly. She hadn’t realised it was already beating that fast before he scared her a little.

 

“Hey”, he mumbled, closing back his eyes and crossing his arms on his chest.

“Hey”, she replied, as lowly.

“How long have you been watching me sleep?”

“I just finished my dinner”, she blushed, knowing perfectly well she was lying. “Thanks for cooking for me. Again.”

“No problem. You said I could make myself at home so I opened your cupboards”, he croaked out.

“You were right to, thanks.”

“Don’t be silly, come sitting on the sofa, it’ll be more comfortable than this chair.”

 

Viola blushed again, mentally thanking the odds that her appartment was so dark at such a late hour. The sun had set down on San Francisco a long time ago and apart from the TV and a lamp, emaning a soft golden glow, there was no light in the living room. Crashing on the couch next to Iain, she sighed at the comfort of the warm cushions and grabbed the comforter she kept on the end of the sofa. She unfolded it, spreading it on them both and let Iain’s head roll on her shoulder.

 

“Is it okay?” he murmured.

 

Viola nodded, appreciating the question. He didn’t take her hug earlier for granted. He knew it was a one time thing that didn’t mean she had broken a wall down. It was a step, not the whole journey. That only made her put her cheek on top of his light brown hair, appreciating the smell of his shampoo and of stale cigarettes.

 

“I like your place”, he mumbled, sleepily.

“Thanks. I like your place too.”

“We have exquisite tastes in home staging”, he joked.

 

The writer laughed a little, not really expecting the joke. She felt at ease with Iain, that night. Like maybe, it was the right time with the right person, like puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly. Which is why she sneaked her hand under the comforter and grabbed his, sighing of relief when he opened his hand and let her intertwine their fingers.

 

“Are we there yet?” he shyly asked.

“I’m not sure. But for tonight, let’s pretend”, she smiled, wrapping herself around him like twine on a wall.

 

Iain sighed with content, timidly turning on his side to allow her legs to climb on his. His other arm went straight around her waist, resting there like a ghost of a touch for a second, before he was sure she was okay with it. Viola was so grateful he respected her boundaries that she teared up a little, tilted her head so Iain’s could come up and crashed on his chest, wrapping her arms around his stomach.

 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah”, she sniffed out a little. “I’m just.. What did I do to deserve such a gentle and patient guy around me?”

“I’d never do something to hurt you, not intentionally. If I do, please let me know, okay?”

 

Viola nodded, making Iain chuckle a little. He muttered something about how she always nodded, like those silly dogs sitting on cars’ rear shelves and that he found it cute. She giggled a little, a sound that she hadn’t heard coming out of her mouth since such a long time and Iain added a commentary about how it was nice hearing her laugh for a change. Viola realised that she hadn’t laughed with him, ever. It was the first time she had let herself go with him and his reaction was so cute that she squeezed him even more against her. He seemed so happy, so content to be here with her, to see another piece of her, that his whole face opened up. And she was there, truly happy for the first time in forever, squished against him and breathing him in. His chest was warm, his arms were soft and the crook of his shoulder felt like it was meant for her head. She felt a little bit fuller: not completely whole, but on the way there.

When Viola reopened her eyes after a short moment (or so she thought), the daylight was pouring in the living room from the windows. Iain had moved in his sleep and had brought her in with him, making them both lay down. Viola’s couch being a bit narrow, they had cuddled together in a sleepy way of saving themselves from a fall and Iain had come on the open side, letting Viola sleep in peace, stuck between him and the back of the sofa.

Iain’s face was slightly pink from the warmth of both their bodies and the comforter, he was boiling hot and his hair was a bit damp on his neck from the sweat. Viola was still a bit sleepy and even though she had been sleeping for the better part of the last twenty four hours, she still snuggled closer to Iain, resting her cheek on his chest and sighing in content. For the first time ever, feeling herself close to someone, both mentally and physically, felt amazing. It seemed like Iain was exactly what she had been waiting for. And more importantly, he grabbed her in his sleep, like it was what he was always meant to do, like they both had been meant to find the other in this big and scary world.

When Viola woke up again, Iain was no longer on the couch with her and she panicked a little, only to smell the good scent of bacon and eggs grilling in a pan. Her stomach automatically rambled and she stood up, raising her arms above her head to stretch. Iain watched her, amused, except when his eyes trailed down to her stomach that was visible as her shirt had lifted. He gulped, hard, when he saw it.

 

“Hey”, she smiled.

“Hey”, he answered, finally turning back to the bacon that was heating up on the stove.

“You have to let me cook for you, sometimes”, she joked, coming behind him to rest her forehead on his shoulder.

“You were still sound asleep when I woke up and I was getting hungry”, he explained, turning around to plant a kiss on the top of her head. “I made scrambled eggs, I don’t know if you’re okay with that..”

“I am, don’t worry. What do you wanna do today?”

“I didn’t know we were supposed to do something, to be honest.. I’ve never been in San Francisco, do you wanna take me around, sightseeing a bit?”

“Sure”, Viola smiled again.

 

She was strangely open and smiling that morning and she thought it was only because she had slept very well and because she had slept next to (or more exactly onto) Iain. She didn’t know if she’d feel that way the whole day but she sure as hell liked how she felt: bubbly, excited, truly happy. They ate sitting in front of each other, talking about what there was to see in good ol’ San Francisco. Viola said there was a couple of spots from movies that she had to show Iain and Iain agreed, because he was an actor and he liked seeing where his favourite movies had been filmed. She offered to let him go to the bathroom first, while she was doing the dishes and tidying a bit of the mess her couch had turned into during the night. When he finally joined her back, his hair damp and his clothes wrinkle-free, she smiled at him and went straight to her bathroom, enjoying the smell of his shower gel and shampoo in her own bathroom. She never had a “masculine” scent in her space and she surprised herself thinking she could get used to it, only if it was Iain’s. When she got out of the bathroom, she was wearing blue skinny jeans and a light blouse with flowy sleeves. She had apply a bit of makeup, a dusty pink lipstick adding a bit of colour to her face. Iain didn’t know what to say, because it felt like there wasn’t any word he could say to describe how he felt at that moment. He knew she was coming out of her shell a little bit and lipstick shouldn’t be such a big thing to notice but he did and he was happy to see that she was finally confident enough in their relationship to allow herself to wear it. She looked extremely cute, of course, but the fact that he knew how much it would have sent her through a dizzy spiral a couple of months ago was even more attractive to him. He felt like he was finally gonna meet Viola, for the first time ever.

He should have known that because she opened up with him wouldn’t mean she was anxiety-free with everyone. He could see her checking around her every single time, at every single spot they visited, to see if anyone was watching her or at least looking at her funnily. He wished he could say that she had nothing to worry about, that she looked lovely and if any guy was watching her, they were just admiring the view but he knew there was nothing he could say to make her feel better and forget about the people around them. So he just took her hand and intertwined their fingers, trying to ease her a little bit or at least give her an anchoring point to come back to whenever her mind would send her miles and miles away from where they were, from them. She appreciated the gesture and could show a tiny little smile, crisped and deformed from anxiety but he gently pushed his thumbs on each corner of her mouth to make it come down.

 

“There’s no need to pretend with me, okay?” he assured. “I’m happy to have you beside me, however you might be.”

 

Raising on her tiptoes, she planted a kiss on his cheek, to thank him for that. Because there was nothing else she could say or do to show how grateful she was that he could understand her so well and show her that everything was fine as long as he was concerned. A lipstick stain could be seen on his pale skin and when she blushed and raised a hand to wipe it off, he pushed it down gently, wearing the biggest grin on his face that she could have ever seen.

 

“I think I’m gonna keep it a little while, if you’re okay with that.”

 

They had lunch in a small restaurant where Iain ordered for them both when she showed him on the menu what she wanted. He knew she wasn’t able to speak to strangers so easily so he took responsibility of it. He also paid for them both because you had to go to the bar to pay and just seeing the small bead of sweat forming on her forehead was enough to make him decide it wasn’t worth the twenty or so dollars of her meal. They walked along South Beach, went to see the famous Golden Bridge and took very touristic photos, even though Iain hated to pose and be taken in pictures. But that day, they took numerous selfies, silly ones where Iain would make faces, serious ones where they’d pose in front of a monument or sight that was worth noting they had been there or cute ones, where Iain would look at her like she was the most magnificent thing he could ever lay eyes on or where Viola would reapply lipstick to the stain on his cheek, because he was so proud of it.

When they came back to Viola’s small apartment, they were exhausted. Viola went to shower first because it had been hot in San Francisco and she felt sticky. During that time, Iain ordered pizzas on the phone and when he went to shower, he specifically told her that if the pizza delivery guy was to come while he was in the shower, she should just knock on the door and he’d come open the door to him.

While he was showering, Viola sat on her couch, thinking about how Iain had shown how gentle and understanding he could be. And more than understanding, he was accepting her as she was, allowing her to be exactly just what she was, without having to throw on a fake persona or pretend that social anxiety wasn’t a thing. She was so immensely thankful to know that at least one person out there was happy to have her just as she was, that she could have cried a little. She already had, a few hours before, when she was cuddling with him for the first time ever, when she felt a warm touch on her skin for the first time ever, when she allowed herself to enjoy it for the first time ever.

Her long ramble of thoughts got interrupted when a loud knock made her jump violently on the couch. Her heart started to beat faster and wilder, without her being able to slow it down. She let a hand rest on her chest, to try and calm herself down but all it managed to do was stress her even more when she realized her chest wasn’t heaving up and down like it was supposed to as she breathed.. because she wasn’t. Her vision started to get blurry, while she suddenly took conscience of how deep she was getting into her own anxiety and she froze completely, her mind unable to deal with all of this mess at once. While in her own bubble of complete and utter confusion, she didn’t notice Iain coming straight out of the shower, wearing only a shirt and a pair of shorts, small droplets of water running down his arms and legs, opening the door to the delivery guy, tipping him and thanking him and then making a beeline to her, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his. He slowly started to draw circles on the back of her hands and incited her to count with him. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.. Viola’s blur started to fade away as she slowly got her senses back. Iain sighed with relief and sat on the floor, in front of the couch, his right hand raising carefully to stroke her cheek. In her daze, she hadn’t even realized that she had started crying and her eyes felt now very prickly.

 

“Are you okay?”, Iain timidly asked.

“Yeah, sorry”, she hiccupped.

“Don’t be, I already told you, you can’t control it.”

“You don’t deserve to go through this with me”, she moaned, hiding her face in the cushions on her couch.

“Hey, hey, Viola, I’m the one deciding on that, okay? And right now, I wanna be here, with you and for you”, he declared, his hand running up and down her back. “Don’t shut me out because you think whatever. This is not the case, anyway. I promise I’m perfectly happy to be here with you.”

 

And because Viola had started to sob by then, Iain grabbed two pillows on each side of the couch and spread the blanket on the whole couch, creating a very poor excuse of a pillow fort. When he felt like his building skills had brought a decent hiding spot, he sneaked inside and managed to grab Viola’s body to crush her into him. His arms tight around her shaking self, he didn’t utter a word and let her ride this wave of self-doubt and shame, with him by her side. When she finally had stopped crying, he only asked if she was hungry and she was. Thankfully, the pizzas were still hot enough to be eaten as they were, so they took them on her bedroom and built a bigger pillow fort to hide into, using her bedframe and a stack of chairs on the other end.

 

“Thank you, for today”, she managed to croak out with her mouth full of pizza and her voice hoarse from the crying.

“I did nothing, you were the great guide who took us on all these adventures. I only followed you around, so thank you”, he insisted, biting his own part of pizza.

“I feel so silly, hiding underneath my blanket with you.”

“At least you’re not alone”, he joked.

“You’re right, I’m not.”

 

That night, Iain fell asleep before Viola. He crashed on her bed, their pillow fort still up and an uncomfortable hotness in their hiding spot. Viola took it down and put the blanket back in place, tidying the chairs before going to bed. When she finally laid down in her bed, she took a couple of minutes to observe the man at her right. His eyelids casted shadows on the top of his cheeks and his nose was the cutest thing she had ever laid eyes on, for some reason. His breathing was calm, even though he suddenly turned on his side and ended up facing her. He mumbled some incoherent sleepy words that she couldn’t understand but made some kind of sense when his arm crashed on her hip and slammed her back against him. He snuggled against her, the tip of his nose drawing random figures in the crook of her neck and Viola felt completely relaxed, like her body finally gave up to his and let go. Like two magnets held at distance that finally got to crash into each other. Like water returning to a bigger stream. Like bees to flowers. The attraction was undeniable and as her lungs no longer felt constricted, she breathed Iain in, her nose making its way to his neck as his did hers. When it seemed right, when her body felt like it belonged there, she closed her eyes and almost instantly fell asleep, but not before thinking that if she were to die here, in this bed, at least she would have died happy in Iain’s arms.

Sundays always came and went like a blur to Viola. She barely sat on her couch and it was already Sunday evening. That particular Sunday started with Iain waking up first and then falling back asleep when he realised Viola was entangled with his body like vine on a wall. She felt so delicate here, trapped in his arms, that he didn’t dare to move. So he put his head back on the pillow they ended up sharing during the night, laid a butterfly kiss on her forehead and stayed there, his lips barely grazing her skin but warming him up like she was the sun and he was a guy who just walked the entire Antarctic floe. Grabbing the cover, he pulled it back to their necks, made sure Viola could still breathe and when he was satisfied, he closed his eyes, with the smallest hint of a grin on his mouth. Viola woke up an hour later, secured underneath the comforter and still in Iain’s embrace. When she really opened her eyes, the sun had been out for a couple of hours and the small alarm clock on her bedside table indicated that it was close to 11am. Still, she scooted closer to Iain, stuck her forehead to his lips and smiled in delight when his loose arms tightened up again around her. In his sleepy state, he kissed her forehead and snuggled back against her, pulling her closer to him if it was even possible. Their hips were now stuck to each other’s and it felt just right.

When they really both woke up, it was close to 2pm and neither of them really wanted to get out of bed. So Viola sacrificed herself, promised she’d be back soon and hurried to her kitchen, opening a couple of cabinets to grab a box of pancake mix, a bowl and then proceeding to get milk from the fridge. Mixing the batter, she hummed a song that vaguely reminded Iain of a french song that Louis Armstrong had covered, many years ago. He couldn’t remember the lyrics for dear life but he knew it was a happy song about love. That’s when it struck to him that this is what it was. That snuggling to bed for hours, that falling back asleep because it felt so good to be together, that craving physical connection and coversations for hours, that this was love, at its purest and simplest form. He hadn’t really realised. He knew he liked Viola, not that he had already fallen in love with her and that maybe, just maybe, it was requited. So, full of this brand new feeling that made him warm and fuzzy, he got up, went to her kitchen and stood there, admiring her from behind, feeling like the light was attracted to her like he was, like it was trying to fill that dark spot inside of her to only leave her with pure light, like she deserved. Iain knew that there was nothing he could really do to help her but he score himself, that day, watching small dust particules dancing into a beam of sunlight that reflected on her shoulders, that he’d do his best to accompany her on this new journey, to make her days as easy and happy as he could and that he’d always be here to take her hand and guide her, to wipe her tears when he couldn’t do anything more, to remind her that she was loved and that she was his match, no matter how imperfect she was.

He walked slowly, finally getting right behind her, and when his arms sneaked around her waist, he felt her smile more than he saw it. His heart filled to the rim as he breathed her in, her particular scent mixed with the one of warm pancakes and he scattered small kisses on her neck, smiling as their skins finally met back.

 

“It smells good”, he commented, between kisses as delicate as droplets of rain on her skin.

“Thanks. I put the milk myself!” she exclaimed jokingly.

“Let say we get those pancakes ready, I’ll bring them back to your bedroom and we can stay in bed all day?”

“Sounds like a perfect plan”, she murmured, falling back against his chest, as his hands met on her stomach.

 

They stayed there, for a couple of minutes, swaying to the old music from Viola’s phone that she had tried to fish while resting against Iain’s chest but ended up not quite touching and Iain got for her. Viola had finally put a more modern cover of the song she had hummed before, La Vie en Rose, originally sung by the famous Edith Piaf. She was also spot on the lyrics, which impressed Iain more than anything ever had.

 

“Wait.. You speak French?”, he exclaimed louder than he intended to.

“Un petit peu”, she smiled. “I stumbled onto a copy of The Little Prince once and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, my mother kept saying that I couldn’t read it so she wouldn’t buy it for me. I wanted it so bad, you have no idea. It was the prettiest object I’d ever laid eyes on and so I decided that to be worthy to possess it, I should be able to read French. So I took French in middle school and sticked with it in high school, developped a very insane obsession with Paris and promised myself that one day, I’d go see the Eiffel Tower. Et voilà”, she shrugged.

 

Iain could have sworn his heart was already full of love for the petite girl he was holding against him, but to hear her speak about Paris and with the cutest little french accent ever heard, he felt like Love passed the rim of his heart and spilled all over his ribcage. He was undeniably in love with Viola, with the excitment in her voice when she spoke about the French city, with the sparkle in her eyes when she showed him the book that started it all, later in the day, with the way her brown hair often fell in her eyes and she couldn’t be bothered to brush it off and with the way the corners of her mouth went up whenever he intertwined their hands when they finally made it back to her bed, with a plate full of gooey and warm pancakes and a small jar of Nutella. They laughed together, ate Nutella pancakes like it was their last meal, played with pillows and giggled when Iain tickled her ribs, pecking her neck like a humming-bird would a flower. His teeth would occasionnally graze her throat and she would smile bigger, until her hands would climb to his hair, gripping to his face for dear life. There was nothing else to do that day than lying in bed, drinking each other in and getting drunk off of pure love and adoration. Until at one point, not able to stop themselves anymore, their mouths collided, in the sweetest way they could, slowly, gently, barely at first and then fully, like they fell in love with each other: little by little until they realised they were deep into it and couldn’t be bothered anymore. 


	5. 5x11: All the Comforts of Home

"Violaaaaaaaaaaa?"

 

The brunette jumped a little, putting down her pen on her notebook and turning on her chair. In front of her, a Scottish dude was trying to get her attention and she sweetly smiled at him before going back to her computer that was now in sleep mode, displaying the hour and the date of the day: April 15th, 2018.

 

"You were gone so far, Love", he smiled, standing beside her. "I just wanted to know if you wanted a cup of tea."

"Yes please!"

 

His hand on her shoulder gripped a little bit harder before it slid down her back. Viola smothered a sigh of content and tilted her head back to rest upon his stomach. Iain had been nothing but sweet these past few weeks and she enjoyed it so much. She kind of felt like she was taking advantage of it, though, however, Iain promised that it was fine and she didn't say anything else after that.

 

"How is it going?" he gently asked, rubbing her back gently.

"There's progress", she assured. "Not sure I'm liking where it's going but I'll see about that later."

"You're gonna erase ten pages at once, right?" he smirked.

"Totally, yep", she emphasized on the "p". "It's just so hard to write this, seriously, I hate it!"

"I can see why", he conceded. "Just remember how hard it was to write the wedding vows!"

"Don't bring me back on that.."

 

Viola had been writing more and more for the Marvel's series. She had been main writer on dozens of episodes, now, and truth be told, she loved it more than anything. To be in charge of the characters and the story was completely euphoric and she enjoyed the idea of being the one to be in charge really helped her with her anxiety. She rarely had been able to make her own choices, with her nerves being a complete parasite in her life but she had to admit that having to make choices for fictional characters was a really cool way to actually be responsible of something, for once. As always, she was more compelled to work on the character of Fitz, but she enjoyed writing about the others as well. She had given Fitz a great arc in season four, with the Framework story and she was a bit heartbroken to see the aftermath of it, now. His struggles with his schizophrenia was both logical and totally tragic. But she's been sporting a "bitch writer" jacket with a SHIELD emblem for the past seven months (curtesy of Elizabeth and Chloe) so she knew she was to blame for that. Episode 5 of the fifth season had been her favorite to write though, with Fitz finally escaping from jail with Lance Hunter. The whole episode had been fun and light to write with jokes and puns, so it had been a pleasure to work on. However, she had been assigned to write Fitz' wedding vows to Jemma and even though she loved their relationship, writing vows for her boyfriend to recite to another woman had proven itself quite difficult. Several times, Iain had asked if maybe, just maybe, another writer could be asked to step up for her, but Viola had refused any easy way out and had written the best freaking vows ever seen on TV. She had refused, however, to be on set for the tapping of the wedding, which Elizabeth understood completely. She even tried to apologize but Viola knew that it was part of Iain's job and that she couldn't do much about it. She wasn't going to ruin FitzSimmons wedding just because she couldn't bear witness her boyfriend getting fake-married to another woman, right? She was already bothered enough whenever they'd tape a kissing scene, so really, the wedding was too much for her to watch.

 

"This is worse than the wedding", Viola whined, hiding her face in his sweatshirt.

"I know, Love, I know.. Doesn't make me ecstatic either, truth be told."

"This is part of our jobs, right?"

"Totally", he scoffed, leaning in to steal a kiss. "When's your appointment with Dr. Claybrook?"

"In like two hours."

"Want me to drive you? I can pick you up after your session, if you want."

"Yes, please. That would be great. ... Where's my cup of tea, Iain?"

"On its way", he laughed. "You're a wee scunner, aren't you?!"

"You love me", she sang.

"That I do!"

 

Iain and Viola had moved in together a few months ago. They lived on two continents, three countries and had four apartments in total. It could have been a complete joke to everyone else but they couldn't care less, to be totally frank. They had this place, their main place, in Los Angeles. This is where they'd live during the filming of Agents of SHIELD and where Viola was treated for her severe social anxiety. She had started to see Dr. Claybrook two years ago and was now under treatment with pills and anxiolytics to help contain her fumbling mess of thoughts. Iain decided to see her too, not because he felt like something was wrong, but to help him understand how he could help Viola and what to do when she was having panic attacks. The fact that he was so involved in her mental health journey warmed Viola's heart immensely, for she felt safe and taken care of in this fragile thing that was the process of getting better. More often than not, Iain would drop her off before her appointment and pick her up to do something fun afterwards. Once they went to the movies, another time they took a walk in Hollywood, once he even took her to the beach even though it was raining and they ended up both sick as hell. But these outings after her sessions were what made it easier and Iain wouldn't escape of it for anything in the world. Viola had made such a big progress ever since she started her work and Iain couldn't be happier nor prouder of her. She opened up to people, she started talking to Elisabeth about her life and her daily struggles, she made friends with the rest of the cast and she ended up being a major ally to anyone on set. From the make-up artists to the prop workers, she was sweet to everyone, ready to help and smiling to anyone. Of course, there were days when Iain would find her crying underneath a staircase, frantically trying to count in her head and he'd sit there, holding her hand but not crowding her more, helping her to ground herself back to Earth by counting with her: five things to see, four things to feel, three things to hear, two things to smell and one good thing about herself. When she couldn't find any, then Iain would help. A chair, a ridiculous costume, that thread that was escaping his jumper or the little mole on her hand; the cold ground, the little wind of cold air on her skin, the rough fabric of his jeans; the loud bangs of the props getting set up or dropped on the floor, the yells of the crew, Henry Simmons' laugh; the catering making cakes, the smell of his perfume; the fact that he loved her, immensely.

Then there was her place, in San Francisco. It was where they started dating and they wouldn't sell it for the world. Whenever they wouldn't be working but would still be in the US, this is where they'd be. The apartment was small and sometimes, they'd be a bit cramped up, walking on each other, bumping into each other, sleeping on top of each other, but that was all about "each other" and it's why they loved it so much.

Then, they'd have a small flat in London, as well. They could use hotel rooms, for they practically never were in London, but they liked the idea of having something that was theirs. They'd invite Iain's friends in it to have some gatherings and that was it. They'd probably spend five months in the flat ever since they got it, a year ago. But it was theirs.

And then, they had the house, in Glasgow. It was where they'd end up whenever Iain wanted to see his family. It was where he planned to grow old, eventually, it was where he wanted to raise future children and it was where they put all of their efforts in decorating, even though they weren't there much. But it was Iain's favorite, just as Viola loved her place in San Francisco. It could have been a problem, their inability to decide where they wanted to live, but truth be told, they always were on the move so it wasn't much of an issue, in the end. They liked their way of life, they wouldn't trade it for the world.

 

"Here you go, tea!"

"Thanks, my little monkey," she stuck her tongue out.

"Monkey yourself, you're the one always clinging to me!"

"Okay, true", she giggled, raising her arms for him to pick her up.

"You're such a baby sometimes," he commented, picking her up anyway.

"Can you blame me? I've this super handsome and super strong boyfriend who can carry me all he wants. Why should I even be walking?"

"Ahem.. Blood circulation in the legs?", he retorted.

"I gotta tell your mom to stop giving you more and more reasons to stop carrying me around."

"Well, it does is bad for my back."

"Wrong, Grandpa!"

"Stop with that already!"

"I love the fact that I get to write you as a grandpa!"

"Yeah, you have to give Fitz a grandson... Freaking Deke, actually!"

"You love Jeff."

"Okay, maybe. But Deke is the worst."

"'But he's... the worst'", she imitated him.

"You're infuriating. Drink your tea before it gets cold", he rolled his eyes to the sky, dropping her on the couch.

 

❅

 

Los Angeles had been okay to live in. It was warmer than she wished it to be but she managed to bear with it and for a few months after that peak in the middle of the summer, the temperature started to drop down to a comfortable one. After that awful episode to write (and to witness being taped), Viola and Iain went back to San Francisco for a few months and visited some of Iain's friends in London for a couple of months as well. Then, they came back to Los Angeles, because the filming for season six was about to start and work rarely awaited. Los Angeles wasn't that warm now; barely 64°F on this mid-December day. But here they were, Iain driving Viola to her appointment. It was one of those times where Iain wouldn't be there to wait for her but promised he'd be there two hours later to pick her up, so everything was fine. She had struggled so much with finding a good psychiatrist that she wouldn't change now. Dr. Claybrook was a nice woman, in her mid-fifties, who gave her phone number easily and devoted herself to her patients. They weren't as many as she could, for she'd rather be of quality rather than quantity. Whenever Viola was able to come to a session, she could Facetime her and everything would be okay with her. Dr. Claybrook knew how much of a crazy life Viola had and she operated with what time she could get.

Contrary to the first sessions, Viola got out of her office with a smile on her face. She had exercised her breathing, her way of thinking, of calming herself. It wasn't one of those deep sessions where she had to go back into her past to find out what went wrong. Nothing really did, to be completely honest. She just needed help to control her thoughts, which was exactly what her pills did and the techniques she worked with her doc. As promised, Iain was there to pick her up, waiting in his car so they could go back to the apartment as fast as possible. They had a nice evening planned and couldn't wait to get into it.

 

"Did you get everything that we needed?" Viola inquired.

"Went grocery shopping and bought a shit ton of things", Iain smirked.

"Fuck yeah!"

 

There wasn't much more needed to be said. Iain revealed himself to be an amazing cook, despite sometimes a major slackness to actually do it. Whenever they'd get released early from set or he wouldn't be too tired from his day, Iain would cook for them both and he was honestly great, but sometimes, the tiredness was too intense and he would just microwave a box of pasta or whatever. If he had enough courage, he'd cook and freeze meals in advance, but it was rare to find Viola in the kitchen, now. They both liked the fact that Iain cooked, for different reasons: Viola would enjoy meals without any effort having been done on her part and Iain would enjoy the cuddles that came with standing in front of the stove when he would rub her back with one hand and stir his pot with the other. This afternoon, though, would be spent with the both of them baking and that was exciting. Their families were coming to L.A. for Christmas, since they already did Christmas in Glasgow for their very first Christmas and then San Francisco. It was a logic continuation and their new apartment's living room was big enough to fit everyone in it. Viola only had her parents and her grandmother, though, whom Iain loved so much and couldn't stop gushing about. If she wanted to tease him, she only had to mention his somewhat weird crush on her grandma and Iain would turn to her with raised eyebrows and a "Are you kidding me?" expression on his face. Iain, however, had his twin sister, his two other siblings, his parents and his grandparents. There were a lot of people and Viola, though she knew them all by now, was still a bit nervous when big events with loads of people to navigate through were to happen. Last time it happened was when they celebrated the hundredth episode of the series and threw a massive party with a red carpet and a theater projection (that Viola cringed at because it was the wedding episode and honestly, even though her writing vows skills had been acclaimed, it was still weird as fuck to see Iain getting married to another woman). They both had to put on their best clothes and if Iain was to wear black to fit the SHIELD theme the actors had imposed themselves, Viola had chosen a navy dress, long enough to cover all of her legs with high heels that eventually made her cringe by the end of the night. The dress wasn't sparkling, it was a ball gown, just a fitted cocktail dress with a bit of mesh on her stomach, which unsurprisingly, was Iain's favorite part to put his hand on. It also had a high slit but the fabric of the dress covered most of it, so her leg would only sneak a peak when she walked and it wasn't to stay out or she'd freak out. She looked like a modern Disney princess and Chloe had made the joke before anyone else by posting a video of them both walking before her, alongside the red carpet, hand in hand with a caption that said "Aren't they precious? A real Disney royalty couple!!" to which fans answered with crying faces emojis and heart eyes emojis and also a bunch of crowns. Iain was quiet on social medias and rarely posted anything. Last thing he eventually posted was a picture of a poster for his brand-new movie  _Overlord_ , that Viola was still to watch because she was a wuss when it came to horror movies. He had promised that it was okay if she didn't watch it but she knew it wasn't and she was still gathering her courage at this point. The fact that he was quiet meant that paparazzi rarely bothered him so Viola was left alone which pleased them both. The only pictures that confirmed Iain was no longer single had been posted by the SHIELD cast and Viola's face was never displayed. On the same celebration night, Jeff Ward has posted a picture of them both in his Instagram story, standing in front of him, but Iain had his arm around her shoulders and she was hiding her face in the crook of his neck while he was kissing her head. Both of their right hands were linked by her shoulder while Iain's left was in his pocket and Viola's was on his chest. Caption? "Look at those lovebirds matching on the red carpet! Iain chose a tie the same color as her dress, because he sucks." Reaction from the fanbase? Explosion of emojis, again. Weirdly enough, they were all lemons emojis. Little pun from the SHIELD new season that Viola was the responsible of. She only had herself to blame. Once, Brett, who was coming back for a few episodes, posted a picture of Iain and Viola fast asleep on a couch, cuddling as closely as possible to not fall. Iain was on the open side of the couch, obviously, and you could barely see Viola on his other side, except for the arm draped on his hip. That was one of the first pictures confirming Iain's relationship, though the numerous comments of Elisabeth on her posts had been a really big clue, stating that "Iain's such a whipped creature, I swear" or "He can't stop talking about this girl, I can't anymore" as well as a grandiose "Iain's not a bad kisser. The boy does good. His girl is gonna have my head on a stick when she hears I said that though!", to which Viola laughed because, really, Iain was whipped and couldn't stop talking about her  _and_  he was a phenomenal kisser.

Christmas was easier because it was their families, but it still was a nervous time and Iain knew that. So he had decided, two days before their families would arrive, that they were to spend a cozy afternoon and bake Christmas cookies together. Because Iain liked cooking and Viola liked helping him so it'd be nice. Plus, spending time in was their favorite way of spending time, for it allowed them to walk around in pajamas and grab at each other anytime they would walk in front of them. Iain definitely was the cheekiest of them both but Viola was fine with that. She loved when he'd grab her by the waist when he was sitting on the couch and she was passing by, letting her fall on his lap so he could get a hug and hide his nose in her neck. She'd laugh, because Iain knew that was one of the most ticklish spots she had, but if he was in the mood to hear her giggle, he'd attack her hips and end up straddling her on the couch, putting pillows on her face and pretending to bite her sides before he'd crash head first on her cleavage to snuggle and eventually fall asleep. Their favorite occupation though was to just lie in bed, cuddle with each other and talk about Life and how much they loved each other. It could have been cheesy as hell, but their whispered "I love you"s were so soft that it eventually reassured Viola on the way, which was always needed. Iain could pretend he had the "body of a twelve-year-old" all he wanted, Viola wouldn't have changed him for the world. When he started saying that he wished he had Brett's body for a couple of days, she was the first one to tell him to cut the crap, that she loved his soft and cuddly body and that he shouldn't even dare thinking about getting a six pack, otherwise she'd kill it with chocolate and then he'd just be fat and that'd be his own damn fault. After that, Iain simply found a sport coach and decided that he would get some muscles despite anything Viola could have said. And secretly, Viola loved it, for it made him stronger than ever and able to carry her on his shoulders, head upside down and giggling like a child, with him running around the set to make her laugh even harder.

 

"Okay, so what do we do now?" Viola asked when she dropped the paper bags on the kitchen isle.

"You start by washing your hands, first of all," Iain explained. "And then we bake!"

 

Iain followed a recipe he had got from his grandmother, who had told it to his sister, who then sent him the whole thing in an email. They started by measuring the dried ingredients like the sugar and the flour, though Iain ended up with more flour on himself than in the bowl and then Viola laughed at him so he grabbed a handful of flour and threw it at her, and now it looked like it had snowed in their kitchen and they were both little ghosts. Viola insisted that she wanted to stir it all together but as Iain added more and more flour, it started getting harder and to hurt a little, so Iain exchanged their roles, pushed back the sleeves of his Christmas jumper and the wooden spoon to beat the dough. They grabbed rolling pins and made sure the dough was nicely rolled down with equal thickness everywhere. Iain had even found a patterned pin that Viola used after having cut the dough in different shapes. Iain, this big animal lover dork, wanted to only do reindeers and therefore, they had many reindeer cookies in the end. Viola, on the other hand, couldn't decide between the many shapes Iain had chosen, so she made stars, she made Santa's, she made Christmas trees and snowflakes and ornaments while Iain stubbornly made reindeers (and some monkeys because Viola had found a monkey cookie cutter a while ago). Carefully, they put their creations on silicon cookie sheets and put them all in the hoven for fifteen minutes or so. And because they had nothing better to do, they sat in front of the hoven, Viola between Iain's legs to rest her back again his chest. They played with their fingers, sticking each tip together like stupid kids and Iain peppered her hands of scruffy kisses, making her laugh softly. At one point, they ended up trapped into each other's embrace, legs a tangled mess and arms above her stomach, Iain's face on her shoulder and Viola's head tilted to rest against his opposite shoulder. The hoven was warming their feet and when the timer rung in the kitchen, they both whined a little. Iain made some frosting while Viola got the cookies out of the hoven and into cold bowls to let them cool down a little. They put everything in the fridge to make them cool down faster and finally crashed on the couch to snuggle for half an hour or so, swapping kisses until they'd be able to decorate. Iain's sweater was warm and smelled of cold smoke and his cologne. Even though she hated the fact that he smoked, she had made peace with the smell of tobacco on his clothes or in his hair. It was part of his character, now. Hidden beneath a thick thrown blanket, they closed their eyes and enjoyed their time together. They didn't need much to be happy, never had and probably never will.

After an hour of basking into each other's warmness, they got up and got their cookies back to decorate them. They put some music on their speaker and some aprons because their hair was still full of flour and there was no way they'd put frosting on their clothes. Snowflakes got white frosting with silver drops and sparkles, ornaments got red and gold frosting with thin white lines. Monkeys got their furs, reindeers got their red nose, fingers got sticky with frosting and cheeks soon get sticky as well when Iain's frosted hands went to Viola's face with a cute scrunched up, mischievous face. Soon enough, frosting got in their hair and in Iain's beard and everywhere really except the cookies that, thankfully, were done when the frosting battle began. Fingers coated in frosting were licked and noses were decorated with red frosting. Hair were peppered with edible sparkles and gold lines were traced on cheekbones. They both looked a mess, dancing on the music that the speaker blasted (a compilation of Christmas music by Michael Bublé and of pop music from the year, especially Maren Morris and Zedd's track,  _The Middle_ , that they both loved all year long). When they got breathless from battling and laughing so hard, they took a look at each other and laughed even more: they were both messes of frosting and sprinkles, they were both syrupy as hell and had a bunch of different smudged colors all over their faces.

 

"Time for a shower!" Iain declared.

"Care to share the water?"

"Duh," Iain answered.

 

And maybe their cookies weren't the best looking of the world. Maybe they weren't really that extraordinary good either. But as they stood under the hot water, washing each other's hair, they couldn't help but think that they were the best things ever, for they had fun making them and loved each other through the whole process.


End file.
